


Good men pay their debts

by Elisexyz



Series: Whumptober 2019 (Timeless) [2]
Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, Developing Friendships, Gen, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-10-25 09:57:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20722334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: “Oh, you—you are so—sogoing to owe me for this—” Rufus pants, valiantly ignoring his poor back yelling at him for his lack of common sense as he literallydragsan unconscious six-feet-tall man across the floor.





	Good men pay their debts

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "Unconscious" prompt in the Whumptober 2019 event.  
  
Have I ever written something about the two of them? I don't think so? Well, it's a crime, I'm fixing it. 

“Oh, you—you are so—_so_ going to owe me for this—” Rufus pants, valiantly ignoring his poor back yelling at him for his lack of common sense as he literally _drags_ an unconscious six-feet-tall man across the floor.

He has decided that the best course of action is to slide his arms under Flynn’s armpits, pulling him as close to his chest as he can and then just—walk. Or do the closest approximation to walking that he can under the current circumstances.

“I don’t even _like_ you,” he mutters, even though he probably should save up the precious oxygen. The things is—if he doesn’t _talk_, there is utter silence, which means that, above his frankly embarrassing panting, he can hear the ceiling and the walls and the everything _creaking_, which means that he is going to panic at the thought of the whole building falling down on their heads. Again.

So he keeps walking and talking, and he hopes that there won’t be any aftershocks.

(There wasn’t even supposed to be an earthquake in the first place: Lucy said literally _nothing_ about an earthquake, otherwise Rufus would have flat out refused to follow Flynn into the creepy building barely keeping itself upright even on stable ground.)

“This is unfair,” he says, right after almost tripping on a bunch of debris, because of course wouldn’t it be amazing if he fell flat on his ass on top of everything else? “_You_ could carry me easily.”

The good news is that this new endeavour is being very successful at distracting him from the pain to his side. The _bad_ news is that now his legs are on fire, his arms are begging him to have some mercy, his back is wailing in an attempt at warning him that he’s about to turn into the next Hunchback of Notre Dame, and, well, his breathing sounds like that of a grandpa running a marathon.

“Next time you and Wyatt hit the gym—I _swear_ I’m joining,” he declares. Alternatively, he could go to Agent Christopher and demand – or, more realistically, _beg_ – to be demoted to desk duty. Who exactly thought that putting _him_ on a field team was a good idea?

You know what, he should just sit down with Jiya and Connor and figure out a way to insert an autopilot in the Lifeboat. That way, he can wait comfortably for the soldiers to do their job and—well, that would be mean to Lucy, who would be stuck alone with those two, but at the moment he is inclined to just throw his hands up and declare that it’s every man for himself.

Maybe it’s just the pain talking. Or maybe he is spending too much time around Flynn and he’s becoming an asshole.

“I bet you’re having fun,” he mutters, between greeted teeth, stopping for a moment to better his grip on Flynn. He has to shake his head as if to physically chase away the thought of sitting down and waiting for the roof to give in. “I bet you’re listening and _laughing_.”

Wouldn’t it be just like Flynn to finally wake up and tease him for all his efforts? He would even have a decent point, because it _is_ ridiculous that he is putting so much effort into not leaving behind the man who literally _shot_ him, not nearly long enough ago for him not to be still cross about it. And alright, Flynn did decide to play the human shield, but Rufus personally thinks that that’s the least he can do. There. Rufus shouldn’t feel in debt and he should brutally suffocate his own conscience so that he can just leave him there and get the hell out.

Yeah, right, as if.

Flynn eventually wakes up, announcing his return to the realm of the living with some grunting and by starting to attempt to break free from Rufus’ hold, even if in a very mild and uncoordinated way.

“Oh, _finally_,” Rufus breathes out, stopping on his tracks and moving so that he can face Flynn. First, though, he straightens his back, much to his relief. “I never thought I’d be so happy to talk with you, and yet.”

Flynn appears confused for a few moments, looking between Rufus and their surroundings, then understanding dawns on his face, and he shoots on his feet so quickly that his head probably goes for a spin, judging by the way he sways on his feet and Rufus has to move to assist.

“We have to get out of here, _now_,” is the first thing out of Flynn’s mouth, as he grabs Rufus’ arm as if to pull him forward.

“I _know_ that,” Rufus says, a little annoyed. “What do you think I have been trying to do? You are not exactly lightweight and I am more of a paper-pusher than a— people-dragger.”

(Give him a break, he’s too exhausted to make too much sense.)

Flynn frowns at him. “Why the hell did you bother, this thing could come down any _second_,” Flynn all but growls, already beginning to march out.

For a moment or two, Rufus is too busy rejoicing at having to carry only his own bodyweight to be pissed at Flynn’s tone.

“You should be out of here already,” Flynn mutters, walking ahead of him and with an hand still gripping his arm firmly. Rufus thinks to shake it off, but then again, at least this way Flynn is _pulling_ him along and doing half of the work for him.

“Oh, you’re _welcome_!” he snorts, though. “I am so glad that I didn’t leave you to die too!”

Flynn doesn’t answer.

It’s only when they are already out, no metaphorical sword hanging over their heads anymore – at the moment at least –, and Rufus is finally drawing a deep breath of relief, that Flynn awkwardly clears his throat to get his attention.

Rufus looks up to him, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

Flynn hesitates for a moment, pressing his lips together and drawing a sharp breath. “Thank you,” he eventually says, gesturing vaguely in his direction. “For—for not leaving me there. You didn’t have to.”

Rufus, all too aware that he should probably be gloating at the sentiment, only manages feel very, _very_ uncomfortable. His eyes drop to the ground, and he offers a shrug. “_You_ didn’t have to jump to cover me like some kind of action movie hero, so—” he mutters.

A very awkward silence drags out for a few moments.

“If it’s any consolation, I wasn’t _thinking_,” Flynn eventually offers, a note of teasing in his voice. “I don’t like you that much.”

“Oh, I don’t like you _at all_,” Rufus is quick to throw back, the lighter tone making it easier to look up as he falls back into a more comfortable pattern.

Flynn snorts, and Rufus could swear that the smile on his face is it at least a little bit sincere.

(He doesn’t know how he feels about that, but thankfully they soon start moving to get to rendezvous point and he doesn’t have to dwell on it.)

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates comments, including: 
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


End file.
